Getting Out
by DLHKM
Summary: It's humiliating, and the Martha Jones she used to be would never have taken on a role that was so degrading. Maybe it's a metaphor for what the Doctor has done to her. Always bringing her down, he is. Before The Sound of Drums. Canon pairings.


**A/N: This is my first Doctor Who fic, so lets see how it goes.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.**

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Martha wonders if the Doctor can actually see her.

It's not that he ignores her. He'll rant for hours if she lets him, prattling on about things like the mating habits of the Xliya or the likelihood of the TARDIS ever ending up inside of herself. _Her_self, because he told her once that the TARDIS is alive, and Martha has spent too much time with the Doctor not to believe him when he says things like that. So, yeah, he'll talk to her, but she can't help but feel as if it's only because she's _there_.

He admitted his loneliness to her, before their travels together began. At the time, Martha was hopelessly infatuated, drawn in by his intelligence and adventurous attitude, and she was determined to heal him, to be the Doctor's doctor. He was emotionally distraught from the loss of Rose (a name to be spoken only by the Doctor and to be brought up only by the Doctor), and Martha wanted to be there for him, to fix the damaged hero and ride off into the sunset with him.

She was such an idiot.

He wasn't asking her for any of that; he really only wanted someone to talk to. She almost laughs at that, but manages to subdue herself when the Doctor quirks a brow at her mid-lecture. The Doctor doesn't talk _to _her, he talks _at _her, to the point that Martha thinks he's just thinking aloud. He gladly answers any questions she asks him, giving lengthy explanations and going off on countless tangents, but she doesn't have much input. He likes to fill the console room with noise, so he speaks; it's as simple as that. Really, the only things he _doesn_'t talk about are personal matters. At this point, Martha is certain she has heard no one speak more than the Doctor.

Funny how she knows next to nothing about him on a deeper level.

She knows trivial things, yeah, like his favorite color (TARDIS blue), and his love for bananas, but she knows next to nothing about Gallifrey and his life before they met. Martha knows what he told her on New Earth, she knows that he ended the Time War and she knows how he did it. She knows that Rose was his companion before her, that he loved her, and that he's probably had other companions, based on his inability to be alone. It's definitely an inability.

And that's why she's with him, she's decided. Not because she's an asset, not because they're friends. Martha is traveling with the Doctor because if he doesn't have _someone_ he'll drive himself insane. She's not special at all. He only picked her because she isn't useless in a crisis. She can't tell whether or not that makes her lucky.

Maybe it means she's the most unfortunate person in the world, because being with him _hurts_.

Sometimes he'll mention Rose, or he'll frown at her, his eyebrows furrowing, and she _knows_ that she's done something Rose wouldn't have done. The sick thing is that she's actually disappointed in herself for not being what he wants her to be, for not being Rose, and she tries to hide it, but she knows that he sees how much he's hurting her. And that hurts him. Martha knows the Doctor, knows he's not doing this to her on purpose, so she paints on a smile and works through the pain. She's Martha _bloody_ Jones, and she's efficient, if nothing else.

But he can still tell. Sometimes he looks at her, his eyes deep and sorrowful, and she knows he knows she's putting on a brave face, but she does it anyway. Not just for him, but for her as well. One of them needs to be strong, and she can see that it's going to have to be her.

But it's hard.

And sometimes he's just _so_ oblivious to the affect he has on her that she wants to break down.

Sometimes she does.

Like when he assigns her the task of watching over his human self. She has to bow down and let other people walk all over her, when she's spent all of her life doing the exact opposite, trying to be a strong, independent woman. It's humiliating, and the Martha Jones she used to be would never have taken on a role that was so degrading. Maybe it's a metaphor for what the Doctor has done to her.

Always bringing her down, he is.

And Joan.

Martha could cry just thinking about her: watching John Smith fall in love with Joan was just as painful as living in Rose's shadow. She was unwelcome and John was not afraid of making her aware of it. She hated him for that, but her love kept her waiting for the Doctor.

Always waiting.

Watching Joan give up on the Doctor was both frustrating and enlightening. Martha was so jealous of Joan, who the Doctor was willing to try to make things work out with, despite his return to his original form. To see her turn the Doctor down was maddening, because how could she give up a chance to be with the _Doctor_? Martha would _never_ give up that chance!

But at the same time, it made her think; Joan was only saving herself the emotional pain, wasn't she? Who knew if the Doctor could love her as much as John Smith did. What if he was too outlandish for her? Joan was only getting out before she got hurt.

_'Maybe,' _ Martha thinks, smiling absently at the Doctor,_ 'I should be more like her.'_

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**A/N: Not how I wanted to end it, but that's how it ended up. Please review!**_  
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